The Fall of the Eleventh
by j1ack
Summary: "The first question.  The question that must never be answered.  Hidden in plain sight! The question you've been running from all your life!" -Dorian, from The Wedding of River Song


The Doctor was lying on a rock overlooking the fields of red grass. _Just like Gallifrey, _the Doctor thought. _How fitting that I should fall in a field of red grass._

Everyone who was there was killed. He killed them. The Doctor killed them. They couldn't know his name. It wasn't some vain pride of keeping his name a secret. Names were power, and if the wrong person had power over the last of the Timelords and the last TARDIS could rip a hole in the fabric of reality. No one could know. No one could ever know his name.

After the last person was dead, he turned, with a somber expression on his face. It had to be done. He didn't like it, but it had to be done. He turned to face the Silence. Their sunken faces didn't frighten him anymore. They were just another obstacle.

The Doctor raised his screwdriver at the Silence. "I'll kill you too. As you said, Silence will fall." The Doctor's eyes fell and his voice softened. "Silence must fall."

"And you will fall as well, Doctor." The Doctor raised his eyes again and pointed his screwdriver with more conviction. "The fall of the Eleventh. Perhaps it was a more figurative falling, prophesizing what you have just done. The man who never lifts a finger toward the call of violence has now killed hundreds. But we, the Silence, interpret the prophecy of the fall of the Eleventh as something more literal. And we shall be the ones to bring about your fall, Doctor, because Silence must fall."

The Silence breathed and lightning flew from its fingertips, hitting the Doctor square in the chest. He flew backwards, his sonic screwdriver landing a few meters away from him.

A blue light from the teleport then enveloped the Silence, and then they were gone. They could not be present on the fields when the question was asked.

The Doctor writhed in pain for a few moments, and then he was still. He could feel the regeneration process beginning to take place. It started as a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling wherever the damage was the worst, gradually sapping the pain away. The feeling slowly spread throughout his entire body, and then he was on fire. Yellow flames engulfed him, and he was a new man. The funny thing was that the Silence had just left him to regenerate. Why had they not finished off the job?

This would not be the first time he would be alone. He hated being alone. It was always better when someone was there. It helped assure him that although he was someone completely different, he was essentially the same. The last of the Time Lords. The wandering angel. The lonely god.

He closed his eyes; he was almost in the final stages now. He felt a slight breeze wash over him.

_That's almost the same breeze that the TARDIS makes when she lands, _the Doctor thought. _It couldn't really be the TARDIS though, the Silence stole her from me as soon as I landed on the fields. I suppose they didn't want me to get away at the last minute. Plus, I didn't hear the noise. I love that noise…_

He was suddenly being cradled, and a familiar scent came upon his senses. His eyes fluttered open.

"River?" the Doctor whispered.

"I'm here, Sweetie." River answered in the same hushed whisper.

"You can't be this close when a Time Lord regenerates. The energy could kill you."

"It could, but it doesn't."

"Spoilers."

"Not too bad."

"River."

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"I've killed all of these people. What does that make me, River? Who does that make me?"

"Let me tell you." She leaned very closely to his ear and whispered his true name to him.

She pulled away, and they smiled at each other. "It never tires me to hear you say that to me."

"Spoilers," she whispered back, and the Doctor could see a tear glimmering in her eye.

"Not too bad."

River leaned in to kiss him. She could feel the fire of his regeneration on her lips, but she pulled him ever closer, not knowing if she would ever see this version of him again.

She finally pulled away to see which version of him she was holding so desperately in her arms, and she smiled. This was _her _Doctor. This was the man with whom she had first fallen in love.

_She has a brilliant smile, _the Doctor thought. That was the first thing that he thought.

"Hello, Sweetie."

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